The Gardener, Chapter 1
by Ollie Broom
Summary: The Gardener's meet to dish out the work


**The Gardener**   
Chapter 1  
by Ollie Broom

The sun shone down on the Labyrinth with a strange watercolour quality it often possessed during the morning hours. In a small courtyard somewhere on the outskirts of one of the many bush-mazes scattered throughout the Labyrinth, a group of Dwarves bustled about chatting to one another, about nothing in particular. From a distance, it looked like a disorganized gathering. But it was not so.

Every morning on the third day of every week for as long as most of them could remember, they would meet in the same place to carry out their work. It was important work. It was not just they who thought so. It was recognised by everyone as important work, even the Goblin King himself. They were the Labyrinth-tamers, Lords of their Realm. In short, they were the gardeners.

Bush-mazes do not stay still, even in the Labyrinth. Especially in the Labyrinth. Like all things green and living, they grow. The thing about the Labyrinth was it had the tendency to be in more of a hurry than most people were used to. As a result the bushes seemed to grow at a tremendous rate. Many had speculated on why this was. In the lands beyond the borders of the Labyrinth, the effect was not observed. Some had put it down to the Labyrinths own perculiar brand of light which had a magical quality that could well have explained the strange occurrence. The gardeners had noted that, after particularly clear nights when the stars were able to shine with all their brilliance, the greenery had seemed to of gotten a bit out of control. Still, without the bushes, the gardeners would have no jobs.

It was a job not without risks.

_Tap-tap-tap._

Yes yes, everyone, please, quieten down. Oh dear, it's been a long week, hasn't it?'

One dwarf, obviously in possession of the rank of Chief Gardener or some other such leadership-endowed title, stood on a small upturned wooden crate in the middle of the throng of workers. He tapped his clipboard again, more loudly this time.

Yes yes, alright. We are here to work, don't forget. What a pleasant morning, don't you think?'

The other dwarves turned to him and nodded in agreement. Like most mornings in the Labyrinth, there was a cool breeze blowing.

OK, so here we go. Shifts as last week, you know the drill. The same partners as last shift. Everyone seems to be working well. Barnable and Harriette, you two are to tend to the southern bushes, for some reason they seem to be most out of control at the moment. Huey and, oh I'm sorry I don't know your name.' The head gardener stopped and pointed to a young-looking dwarf standing on his own.

I'm Yale.'

Yes, nice to meet you. If no-one's told you yet, I'm Onkle. You're the new one, yes? Well, good, you and Huey will be cutting back the northern bushes, and doing a fine job of it I'm sure.'

Yale nodded with just a tiny bit too little enthusiasm for Onkle's liking. _The youth of today never seems to get into the spirit of things,_ he thought to himself. _Not like in my day_.

Horace and myself will be tending to the trees.'

Right you are, Onkle' Horace replied from by his side.

Good. The rest of you are on patrol duty.'

A barely audible moan went up from the group of assembled dwarves.

Well someone has to do it. Scan the area, make sure everythings looking good. It's an easy job, for God's sake! Don't know what the fuss is about. And for the love of the King would you _please_ all make sure you've got your maps with you this time. Z-Shift went missing a week ago and we still haven't found them yet – you all know what this place is like so keep your wits about you, will you? We can't afford to lose workers. Well, that's all. Move on out, people.'

The group slowly dispered down various different bush-lined corridors in pairs and small groups, wielding their shears with menacing familiarity. Onkle was filled with a warm feeling of satisfaction. He stepped down from his podium.

Well now, my friend,' he said to Horace, We'd best be getting started.'

Right you are, Onkle. Where shall we begin?'

Same as usual, Horace. North-Eastern corner first, and we'll work our way around the compass. We'll do the middle last.'

Good good. Well, let's be off then.'

The two dwarves bumbled out of the courtyard and off into the maze.

You do have the maps, Horace?' Onkle asked as always, just to be on the safe side.

Yes yes, Onkle. They're right here.'

With that, Horace pulled a wad of worn papers from one of his many back pockets and waved them about a little.

Looks like we're set, then.'

The two dwarves arrived at the location marked down on their map sheet.

Look's like we might of caught this just in time, Horace', remarked Onkle, looking about him at the over-grown branches and poking out from the bushy walls.

And these leaves could do with sweeping away' Horace replied. There was a thin blanket of dead leaf little lining the pathway on which they stood.

We've got our work cut out today, Horace. Let's get started.'

The two elderly dwarves began pulling shears, knives and other ferocious-looking tools out of numerous pockets and bags hung about their person, and soon they had begun to cut and sweep at the overgrown wall.

The sun was hot, the breeze was cool, and it was a fine day in the Labyrinth. Horace remarked so once again, aware that he had already stated so earlier on.

Yes. But it was not always like this, was it my friend?' Onkle replied, not looking up from his work.

No, Onkle. Indeed it was not. Ahhh, those days are long gone, and we are better of for it too.'

Horace sighed audibly and paused, his shears hanging from his wrist by a piece of wound string.

Onkle, do you still remember those days?' he asked wistfully.

I do indeed. How can I forget. How can any of us forget? And we musn't, not ever. History has a funny way of repeating itself and that's one chapter I do not wish to live through again.'

Many chapters, Onkle. There were many chapters.'

Yes. Yes, there were.'

The two old friends stood there gazing into nothing, consumed by some distant memory which stirred them deeply.

Do you remember that afternoon, that first afternoon just after we had met? You were working as a water-carrier for the local Goblin marshal and I was being trained up as a blacksmith to make weapons for the patrols.'

Horace sat himself down on the ground, resting his back against the slightly-less overgrown bushy wall.

I will never forget it, my friend. Never.'

Before king Jareth, the dwarves remembered things being very different. Jareth ruled well only because he was feared by everyone and everything who knew him in the Labyrinth. It was this fear that kept control. Without it, he would be far less powerful and eveyrone knew it. He was never threatened with being overthrown, his life was rarely in danger, and he had no true enemies to speak of, because anyone who knew anything knew that Jareth was to be feared.

And this was no bad thing. The king before Jareth was not feared. He was an old man, some saw him as weak and feeble, others discounted his mental health, and no-one had had respect for the grey hunched figure who had sat where Jareth sat now. Without fear, the Labyrinth had been in chaos.


End file.
